


I Will Lay Down My Heart (But You Won't)

by AmbroseRivers



Category: Witch's Heart (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Fictober 2019, M/M, Sexual Situations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 16:03:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20969264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmbroseRivers/pseuds/AmbroseRivers
Summary: It's the end of this loop and Wilardo should know better than to hope.Fictober Prompt 8: "Can you stay?"





	I Will Lay Down My Heart (But You Won't)

**Author's Note:**

> I have been toying with the idea of writing something for WItch's Heart for a bit but I haven't written anything for a while... It seemed like the perfect time when Fictober came around so here we are! I hope you enjoy but please heed the warnings and stay safe!

His breathing was shallow and quick, even as the other man fell.

_Clink-clink-clink._

The noise was muted, amplified by the wet slap that encased it and Wilardo…

Wilardo found he couldn’t breathe.

He locked his jaw and forced himself to inhale, shaking ever so slightly at the metallic tang that polluted his refuge.

_I don’t care. I don’t care. I…_

Claire’s chest was heaving.

_She needs this air more than I do._

He was shoving against the lump of dead weight crumbled over her.

It took everything in him to contain the snarl pushing at his teeth and the fire climbing up his trachea as he looked into frightened, hazy golden eyes.

He knew Ashe wasn’t going to survive, but…

Wilardo reached for the gun tucked away in his hoodie, taking care to barely skim his fingertips over the heated barrel with a soft hiss, and balled his fist in that emerald shirt.

_I hate you, I hate you, I hate you._

He yanked Ashe abruptly.

There was little resistance, those ever-moving, precise limbs weighed down by the heaviness of an impending doom and Wilardo’s eyes traced the spot where the darkest crimson blotted like a grotesque mockery of a painting.

“You know…” Wilardo spoke and why did the consonants have to snag on the already raw tissue of his throat?

Why couldn’t he have this one thing?

_Haven’t I suffered enough?_

“Gunshot wounds…” He continued, dragging Ashe with him- away from Claire- ignoring the dampness of his pants. “…are more lethal than stab wounds. They always have been with… with…”

The tears are excruciating, and he must look horrid because they are peeling his flesh with each millimeter they fall.

“Depth…” Ashe drawled, eyelids fluttering and that stupid, stupid smile on his face. “They have… dep…th…”

“You are so stupid,” Wilardo barked and it was painful, pitiful how it ended in a whimper. “You could have let her go! You could have let her live!”

Ashe chuckled.

His head pressed against Wilardo and Wilardo wondered if he could hear the violent beat as his heart tried to force it’s way out… so he would have a gap in his bones, his tissue, his sinew that mirrored Ashe’s.

That mirrored the way his soul had fractured.

“I…” Ashe was getting heavier, nuzzling into him like a sleepy kitten— as if he hadn’t been shot, as if he wasn’t bleeding out, as if he wasn’t… wasn’t… “…couldn’t. You know that.”

He did know.

He had always known and yet…

_They are tangled in each other._

_Wilardo has his arm curled under the slope of Ashe’s bony hip while Ashe has buried himself under his chin, warm breath fanning over still slick skin._

_It’s a dangerous game that they play but Wilardo still cards his fingers through loose green locks, slowly working his way through the snarls there._

_“Hey,” Ashe sighs deeply, crinkling his nose with displeasure. “Stop that.”_

_This was Ashe without that smile— irritated, subdued, and just a hint of something dark._

_Wilardo tightens his hold so he can twist them until he is keeping Ashe grounded with his own body, his fingers gripping and pulling every so slightly, and a devilish glint in his eyes._

_“Why should I?” He teases and there is a flash of silver in Ashe’s eyes before he is falling, tumbling, and—_

The barrel of his gun was against Ashe’s skull.

“Wha—” Wilardo gasped but his recoil was stopped by Ashe’s tentative grip on his wrist. “Sto—”

_“You should know better than to mess with me.” Ashe growls against his neck, against the dark stain of bursted blood vessels there. “You know I can’t…”_

“Stay.” Ashe murmured while his nails pricked into Wilardo. “Can you…” Ashe pressed the barrel harder against himself and a sob ripped itself from Wilardo at the action. “…stay?”

_“It’s just one more night.” Wilardo shoots back. He whacks his knee against Ashe’s side, a silent plea, before he forces himself to relax, for his legs to fall open. “Just don’t let Sirius catch you on your way back.”_

_Ashe stares at him without blinking._

_One heartbeat._

_Two… Three.._

Wilardo pulled the trigger and the taste of scorched what-could-have-beens, bitter endings, and bile coated his tongue.

Ashe’s last breath echoed in his ears more than the gunshot ever could… or would.

He should know better than to hope after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on Tumblr!: loveinthebones.


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